


The Tux

by lallyloo



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lallyloo/pseuds/lallyloo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim flirts with McCoy, but is only half serious until the night he sees him in a tux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tux

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to livejournal in May 2010.

It was the tux that finally broke him.

Jim had been flirting for months, joking about a hook up. But the tux.. McCoy's cadet reds fit him like a glove, and his hospital scrubs highlighted his arm muscles perfectly, but the tux was a different story.

It was the most expensive thing McCoy owned, and the only article of clothing he'd ever put a great deal of thought or money into. It was tailored perfectly, framing his chest and arms, hugging his hips and ass, and making his legs look a mile long.

It had been a joke before –well, partially – but seeing McCoy in his tux changed all that.

Jim had watched McCoy get ready for the evening. He'd joked and flirted as usual, commenting on McCoy's ass in the tux and how many people would love to get in those pants, and as usual McCoy had ignored him. He'd even gone so far as to ask if he could go as McCoy's 'date' and McCoy had brushed him off with a raised eyebrow and a look of _'don't be an idiot, Jim.'_

Jim wasn't supposed to be at the event, the invitation had said _distinguished medical students and honored guests only_ , yet he found himself there anyway. It wasn't a surprise, really, Jim Kirk had a tendency to ignore rules and social etiquette when it came to getting what he wanted. So that was how Jim came to be wandering quietly through the back of the auditorium, weaving in and out of tables and scanning the crowd for a familiar brunette. When he finally caught sight of McCoy, Jim dropped himself down in an empty chair and spent the next ten minutes covertly watching his best friend, and praying the occupant of the chair wouldn't return.

McCoy looked dashing, and Jim laughed silently at himself for making such a silly observation. But it was true, McCoy looked incredibly handsome sitting at a table of colleagues, making polite conversation and even _smiling_ as he was introduced to various people.

“Excuse me, sir. I believe you're sitting in my seat.”

Jim froze at the voice and jumped up out of the chair, offering his apologies as he ducked his head and moved quickly towards the back of the room. At least he knew where McCoy was sitting, so he'd be able to see if McCoy got up to leave.

Another thirty minutes passed as Jim stood at the back of the room. Several passing waiters offered him drinks, and he downed each one quickly. His head was swimming a little when he finally saw a familiar figure rise from the table. McCoy nodded politely to a few people before he began making his way through the maze of tables. Jim's eyes followed him through the crowd, and when McCoy was only a few feet away Jim stepped out from the shadows.

“Bones.”

McCoy was clearly startled to see him, and then angered when he smelled the alcohol on Jim's breath. He gripped Jim's collar and glanced around quickly before pushing him behind a false wall. They could still hear the chatter and the clink of glasses and cutlery in the room, and shadows moved over the floor as waiters made their way through the crowd. McCoy whispered harshly at him, still refusing to loosen his grip on Jim's collar.

“What in hell are you doing here?”

“Came to see you. Just wanted to see you in that tux again.”

“That's goddamn ridiculous. And you're drunk.”

“I wasn't when I got here. Just needed a little liquid courage.”

“Liquid courage for what?”

Jim stepped forward then, attempting to kiss him. McCoy pushed him away using the fabric of his collar.

“Damn it, Jim, don't. You're not even supposed to be here.”

Jim didn't listen, and simply pushed himself at McCoy again. He gripped McCoy's shoulders, feeling the taut muscles under the expensive fabric, then slid his hands down McCoy's arms and clamped onto his biceps.

“Fuck Bones, you look so good tonight. I just want.. I want..”

His voice trailed off as his face ghosted over McCoy's neck and shoulder. He was inhaling the scent of him, trying to take in as much as possible before McCoy pushed him away again.

“Jim, you're drunk and you're being an idiot. I don't know what you were thinking when you decided to show up here, but you need to go back to the dorm.”

“I'm not being an idiot. I just wanted to see you.. Please..”

Jim reached down, frantically attempting to unbutton his dress pants as his mouth moved towards McCoy's. McCoy ducked his head to move away from Jim's reaching lips.

“Jim, I don't know why--”

“Because I want it. You. Whatever. You just look so fucking good. Please, Bones.. Just touch me or something.. Please..”

He was rutting against McCoy then, his pants half unzipped, his hands loosely gripping McCoy's arms. His cock hung hard and heavy in his dress pants, he hadn't bothered with underwear, and he groaned as he rubbed it against McCoy's thigh.

“Ahh fuck.. please.”

McCoy ran his hand over his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

“If I do this--”

“Yeah, Bones, do it.”

McCoy started again.

“ _If I do this_ , I'm not kissing you.”

Jim paused suddenly, looking up at McCoy with a frown.

“Why won't you kiss me?”

“I'll kiss you, but not when you're drunk. If you sober up and you still want it, then I'll kiss you.”

Jim grinned.

“Trust me, I'll want it. I'm gonna kiss you so fucking hard.”

McCoy rolled his eyes.

“And you need to be quiet.”

Jim shut his mouth then, smiling at McCoy and nodding his head.

“Christ sake, Jim. C'mere.”

McCoy pulled him closer, reaching to yank Jim's zipper the rest of the way down before he eased his hand inside the dress pants. Jim gasped and went up on his toes for a second when McCoy wrapped a hand around his length, as if he couldn't really believe it was happening and it felt too good to be true.

He gave Jim a few slow tugs, flicking his thumb over the end the same way he would if he were doing it to himself. Jim sputtered and gasped, his hands still clamped around McCoy's arms and kneading the fabric there.

His head fell against McCoy's chest. “So good, Bones..”

Precum leaked from the tip of Jim's cock, and with each swipe of this thumb McCoy's hand slid easier and quicker along Jim's length.

McCoy brought the middle finger of his free hand up to his own mouth, sucking it in and licking at it before pulling it back out. McCoy turned Jim a little so he could slide that same hand down the back of Jim's pants. He gripped Jim's ass and eased the slick finger between Jim's cheeks to tease at his hole. Jim's knees nearly gave out as he clung to McCoy, panting into his neck and mouthing at the skin there.

“Ahhh.. fucking good, Bones.. So fucking good..”

McCoy used the digit to trace circles over Jim's hole, his finger slipping a little against the spot before giving a cautious push inside. Just the tip, just a tease. Jim moaned against his neck and arched his back to thrust his ass up, physically begging for more more more.

“Later, Jim.” McCoy whispered against Jim's ear. “Not just now.”

He continued with his teasing, tracing maddening circles over Jim's hole, and when Jim began rocking his hips to increase the thrust of his cock McCoy moved his hand in tandem with the motion.

“I'm gonna.. Aww fuck Bones, I'm gonna..”

Jim's breath was harsh against McCoy's neck as he clung to the arms of the tux. His hips moved back and forth between McCoy's hands as his climax overtook him, hot liquid shooting into Jim's dress pants, pulsing out against the material and over McCoy's hand. Jim shuddered through the last few waves of his orgasm, jerking a little as the feeling of McCoy's hands on him suddenly became too much for his sensitive flesh.

McCoy seemed to recognize the signal and let go, easing his hands out of Jim's pants. He glanced around quickly as if searching for something to wipe his hand with and, before he could react, Jim grabbed his hand, sucking the fingers into his mouth and licking off his own cum.

“Goddamn..”

Jim glanced up at McCoy then and finally noticed the darkness in his eyes. His gaze traveled down McCoy's face, passed the soft lips and the slight scruff, down his neck and across his broad shoulders, over the perfectly tailored tux now slightly wrinkled from Jim's grip, and down down down.

That's when Jim saw the noticeable bulge in the pants of McCoy's tux. The man was turned on.

Jim reached a cautious hand forward, running his fingers lightly over the smooth material, so afraid McCoy would tell him to stop. He pressed his palm flat against the bulge there, feeling the heat and the hardness straining against the fabric. Jim curled his fingers in to trace over the outline of McCoy's cock and looked up at McCoy again.

“Can I?”

McCoy stared at Jim for a long while before glancing around. They were still completely alone and seemingly unnoticed behind the false wall. Finally he raised an eyebrow at Jim as the reached down to unbutton his pants.

With a smile, Jim dropped to his knees.

 

*

 

Jim slowly drifted to consciousness, his head pounding and his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. He groaned into his pillow.

“Mornin' kid. I've been considering jabbing you with a hypo, but I'm torn between that and watching you suffer a little.”

The voice was too loud.

“Shh..” Jim slurred into his pillow before managing to turn his head to the side.

He squinted as he looked over the room. Black fabric, looking suspiciously like his only pair of dress pants, lay in a heap on the floor. A single shoe, a shirt, and a tie. And then his eye caught hold of something else – McCoy's tux hanging next to the closet.

The tux. Memories flashed through Jim's mind – a crowd, drinks, darkness and shadows, Bones, and a suit, and two strong hands. His own voice begging.

Jim cringed. “Shit.. Never mixing drinks again.”

There was no reply from McCoy's side of the room.

“Sorry..” he muttered quietly.

Still no reply.

“I can be an ass when I'm drunk.”

McCoy grunted. “You weren't an ass. Just an idiot. And an eager one at that.”

“Yeah.. Still.. Sorry.”

“Let's just drop it.”

It was Jim's turn to not reply. The side of his face was still pressed into the pillow and he yawned loudly, wincing as the action made his head throb. He was still for moment as he allowed the pain to subside, and then his eyes traveled up McCoy's bed.

He was sitting propped against his pillow, PADD on his knees, and a scowl on his face. Nothing new, but Jim couldn't help feel a sense of guilt wash over him.

“Sorry,” he repeated.

McCoy didn't spare him a glance. “It's fine,” he said tightly, his eyes still on the PADD. “Just another drunken evening in the life of Jim Kirk.”

Jim frowned.

“It wasn't just another night. And I said I was sorry.”

“And I said it was fine. Damn it, Jim, just drop it.”

Jim lay silent again. He thought back to the night before, struggling to remember the details. A dark corner, or a room? He couldn't be sure. His voice pleading, and he attempted to block that detail. McCoy's hands on him. Want and need and ecstasy. An intense high followed by a long-awaited release. His hands on McCoy, and himself on his knees.

“Was it really that bad?” Jim muttered against the pillow. “The memories seem alright to me.”

McCoy snorted. “Of course you'd say that. You were drunk and getting your rocks off.”

“I wasn't.. Ahh shit.” Jim shifted on the bed as he spoke, attempting to prop himself up in order to look at McCoy directly. The motion sent throbbing pain through him and left his head swimming.

McCoy tossed down his PADD and jumped up off his bed. Jim didn't have to watch to know McCoy was heading for his medical supplies.

“Goddamn infant..” he was muttering to himself as he clicked open his case. He grabbed something and made his way back over to Jim. There was a sharp jab and a hiss, and Jim couldn't be bothered to put up a fight. Within seconds his head seemed to be clearing.

Jim sat up slowly, blinking his eyes and giving his head a shake. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.” Sarcasm dripped from McCoy voice.

“As I was saying,” Jim began again, staring at McCoy's back as he returned the hypo to its case. “I wasn't _getting my rocks off_. Well, okay, I _was_ , but that's not why I went there originally.”

McCoy didn't turn around. “Then why did you go there, Jim? Because it seemed to me that you got a hankering for my goddamn tuxedo and decided to show up with your blue eyes and your begging and then you drank yourself into a stupor. And then... Damn it, I'm just sorry I was an idiot who went along for the ride. I should know better by now.”

The words stung, and Jim didn't try to hide his hurt.

“You should know better? What's that supposed to mean?”

McCoy turned to face him then, his face softening a little. “Nothing, never mind. Forget I said it.”

“No Bones, tell me. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

McCoy sighed. “I just mean.. it's you, Jim. It's just you acting the way you generally do. One night stand, blow them off the next morning with a 'sorry' and a 'see you around' and a quick escape. Except this time we're stuck in a room together so the escape part of the scenario is a little more difficult.”

Anger hit Jim then. “Escape part of the scenario? Fuck you, Bones! I told you I was sorry, and I am! But I'm only sorry that I showed up and got drunk and ruined your evening. I'm not sorry about any of the rest of it. Well, maybe the begging because it's embarrassing.. But the rest, _not sorry_. So fuck you..”

His voice trailed off at the end, the anger dissipating as he met McCoy's eyes.

“I'm not sorry..” he said again.

They stared at each other for a moment before McCoy reached his hand out. “C'mere.”

Jim stood hesitantly.

McCoy grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him closer. They stood flush together, clad in pajama bottoms and old t-shirts, neither one quite brave enough to look the other in the eye.

“I'm not sorry either,” McCoy said quietly, slipping his fingers from Jim's wrist to his hand. “I just didn't know.”

Jim looked at him then, refusing to break his gaze. “You _should_ know. I can be an idiot, yeah. But with you.. I wouldn't hurt you.”

McCoy nodded, and Jim glanced at his mouth.

“All those memories from last night, but I can't remember kissing you. It's weird.”

McCoy laughed. “That's because I didn't let you.”

Jim gave him a puzzled look. “What the hell, Bones? Why?”

“I'm an old-fashioned guy. I didn't want to kiss you without it meaning something.”

It was Jim's turn to laugh. “Even though I've already had your hands all over me and your dick in my mouth.. But okay, old-fashioned guy it is.”

“I didn't say it made sense. I'm just saying, that's how I am. Besides, I seem to recall you saying you were going to kiss me 'so fucking hard' and that has yet to happen.”

Jim grinned. “I said that? Well, I'm not one to break a promise. Just let me brush my teeth first.”

Jim attempted to break away, but McCoy retained his grip on Jim's hand. “No, just stay here like this. I don't mind.”

Jim tilted his head and smiled. Then he leaned in, his mouth an inch or two from McCoy's, and waited.

McCoy's hand came up slowly, tracing over Jim's back and neck until his fingers were in Jim's hair. “Just like this,” he said quietly as he pulled Jim's mouth to his own.

It was slow at first, their lips pressing together softly and experimentally, before McCoy's tongue licked teasingly at the outside of Jim's mouth. Jim opened for him, drawing the eager tongue inside and deepening the kiss. McCoy's hand remained clasped in Jim's hair as his other hand circled Jim's waist, and they stood there together, two sleepy figures clad in t-shirts and pajama pants, arms around each other. It was slow and close and sweet, exactly as it should have been.

Jim didn't give a second thought to the tux hanging by the closet. The tux didn't matter, it was only the catalyst.

In that perfectly imperfect moment, Jim knew, it was Bones he wanted.


End file.
